The Finest Wits Have Their Sediment.

Life Loiters At The Book's First Page,-- Ah! Could We Turn The Leaf.

Do Not Believe That Possibly You Can Escape The Reward Of Your Action.

Every Spirit Makes Its House, And We Can Give A Shrewd Guess From The House To The Inhabitant.

One Of The Illusions Of Life Is That The Present Hour Is Not The Critical, Decisive One.

We Are Never Without A Pilot. When We Know Not How To Steer, And Dare Not Hoist A Sail, We Can Drift. The Current Knows The Way, Though We Do Not. The Ship Of Heaven Guides Itself, And Will Not Accept A Wooden Rudder.